


Talk to me.

by tpressheath



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:01:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tpressheath/pseuds/tpressheath
Summary: A little teeny tiny bit of angst with no real point.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	Talk to me.

“Tobin! Stop walking away from me, we need to talk.” 

“Chris seriously I am so fucking tired I just want to go to bed can we talk about this later?” Tobin ran her hands over her eyes, turning to face Christen who had cornered her in her own hotel room that Tobin assumed her fianceé had made arrangements for Lindsey to switch with her for the night. 

“Tobin we’re not going to bed until we’ve talked, now sit down and talk to me like an adult, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“It’s hard to feel like an adult when you’re constantly bossing me around!” Tobin shouted, louder than she intended and she pinched the bridge of her nose—knowing exactly the can of worms she had just unleashed. 

“Are you serious right now? God Tobin you’re so frustrating! Every time you are upset about anything you always turn it into a fight that doesn’t need to happen! If you would just talk to me and tell me what you’re feeling then I wouldn’t get so upset!” 

“Oh please,” Tobin rolled her eyes, too far gone at this point to even care that she was only making things worse. “you love telling me what I did wrong and what I should do and how I should feel and that I should feel more or talk more or whatever! Why can’t you just let me be upset for  _ one _ night without forcing me to talk before I’m ready!” 

“But you’re never ready Tobin! Maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult I wouldn’t have to tell you what to do!”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t been a bitch to me tonight I wouldn’t be upset in the first place!” 

That snapped Tobin right out of her daze. 

“Fuck, Chris I’m sorry —” 

“Shut up!” Christen shouted, her voice was hoarse and tears were forming in her eyes. “Just stop talking!” Christen was practically shaking and Tobin hated herself for bringing this on. 

With a shaky voice, and tears streaming down her cheeks, Christen continued, “We don’t do that. We don’t call eachother names like that and you fucking know it. You know how much that hurts me. It’s fine that we fight, everybody does, but don’t you think for a second that excuses that. I don’t care what  _ I _ did, what  _ you _ did,  _ we _ do not do that.” 

“Chris I’m sorry—I am, I didn’t mean that…” Tobin took a few steps forward, reaching her hand out for Christen who quickly shot it down.    
  


“Don’t.” She shook her head furiously and it looked as if it was physically paining her to reject Tobin—and maybe it was. “I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” Her voice was so small and Tobin’s throat felt like it was on fire, watching and being unable to comfort the younger woman. “I just—I need a minute, I’m gonna go.” Christen wiped at her tears and picked her phone off the bed before slipping on Tobin’s slides that were more convenient than her own runners at the moment. 

“Chris, baby please don’t go. I’m so sorry—please I’m ready to talk just please don’t go.” 

She almost stayed. Christen almost caved the second Tobin’s voice cracked halfway through her sentence. It killed her to close her eyes and grip her phone tighter in her hand, turning to face Tobin, unable to look her in the eye as she spoke—knowing that would make her give in. “I’ll come back. I just need a minute alone.” Christen spoke quickly, turning and walking out of the hotel room without looking back again. 

  
  


Tobin found her, thirty minutes later on the roof of the hotel—in the same spot they sat the night before to watch the sunset. 

Tobin knew Christen better than anyone. And she knew that if the woman hadn’t returned within an hour that she wanted Tobin to come to her and show her she was serious about fixing whatever had happened. 

She couldn’t wait that long tonight though. She had paced back and forth for as long as she could before saying “fuck it” and heading straight for the exact spot Tobin knew she would find her—knowing that if she wasn’t there, in the obvious spot, then she wouldn’t have wanted to be found. 

“I couldn’t wait an hour today.” Tobin spoke softly, her quiet voice startling Christen, who turned around and came face to face with Tobin’s swollen, tear stained eyes. 

“Can we sit?” Tobin asked quietly, reaching out a tentative hand to Christen who looked at it sadly for a moment before accepting it—being struck with the immediate warmth of the all too familiar hand in her own. 

They walked a few steps hand in hand to the seating area, closest to the glass wall that surrounded the rooftop area. They sat close enough that their knees were only slightly brushing together and their fingers were still connected loosely between them. 

“Chris…” Tobin started, “I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I know our rule. I know we don’t do that and I’m so sorry that I let my anger get the best of me and that I hurt you like that.” 

Christen sniffled, trying to force back tears from starting again as she looked into Tobin’s big brown eyes. “I just don’t understand why you got  _ so _ angry. You’ve been pissed at me before and we’ve been in bigger fights than this but you never  _ ever  _ do that, especially not since we made that rule together. What did I do that got you that mad?” Her voice was small as she looked down at their intertwined fingers after feeling Tobin playing with her engagement ring. 

“It wasn’t you. I wasn’t even mad at you.” Tobin admitted, twisting the gold ring around Christen’s fourth finger, watching as the moonlight glistens off the diamond with each turn. 

“What is it then?” Christen asked calmly, knowing that in these moments, no matter how upset she could be, Tobin needed her to be patient as she finally put together the words to describe how she was feeling. 

“I’m mad at myself—at how I’ve been playing lately. I thought I was just rusty at first since I had been out for a bit with my ankle, but I’ve been starting consistently and  _ constantly  _ playing like shit. Every game I feel like nothing at all clicks for me and—” Tobin’s voice breaks off, struggling to express her main point. 

“And what, baby?”

“And I’ve never in my career been so unconfident about my place on this team.” Tobin answers weakly, sucking in a breath and failing to refrain from letting out a quiet sob as Christen pulls her in closer. 

“Oh honey…” Christen sighs, letting Tobin fall into her side, resting her head on Christen’s shoulder until the tears subsided. “Tobin… do you really feel worried about your roster spot?” 

“I—I don’t know. I’m not like convinced that I’m not going to make the roster but more just like—I know that I don’t deserve a starting sport right now and it’s so frustrating because you know that I’m fine not playing as long as I’m in good form but I can’t fucking stand feeling like I don’t even deserve to be playing right now. Like I was almost angry that Vlatko started me today because I  _ knew _ I didn’t deserve it. I’ve played like shit for for months now and I hate feeling like other people should be starting over me because I want to feel like I deserve to be here and not that I’m just here because I’m a familiar face or a leader or something. And I’m not saying I don’t want to be a leader but I—”

“Tobin—”Christen cuts her fianceé off gently, with a calming hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry for interrupting you but you’re working yourself up so much I just don’t want you to start panicking.” Christen runs her thumb gently over the smooth skin of Tobin’s cheek, catching a stray tear on its way down and letting Tobin catch her breath before continuing. “So when I talked to you at the game about not passing that one time you only got so upset because you were already in your head about how you were playing?” 

Tobin nodded, still leaning into Christen’s hand, relishing in the contact as she always did after the two of them fought. 

“I’d started to notice you struggling a bit with that lately—I guess I was hoping you’d come to me if it was actually a serious problem like it is.” 

“There’s a reason I didn’t” Tobin whispered, looking away from Christen now, ashamed of what she was about to share. “You’ve been in the best form of your life lately… I mean, to me you’ve always been that way, but you’re finally getting these opportunites to show everyone how fucking incredible you are, and game in and game out you’ve proved yourself constantly for months and—after qualifiers… I couldn’t fall asleep one night because I was just thinking about all the mistakes I had made and I caught myself getting angry and jealous...that you’ve been playing so well and I’ve been playing like this…. And then I immediately felt guilty for even letting myself think that…for letting that thought in as if there is a single fucking person in this world who deserves more praise or recongition or who deserves to be playing the way you are more than you. So I haven’t talked to you because I felt ashamed for thinking that way for even half a second even if that’s not even close to how I truly feel.”

She didn’t mean to. She really, really didn’t mean to and felt horrible the second it slipped out—but Christen  _ laughed _ . It wasn’t just a chuckle, but a full on throaty laugh that had Tobin’s head snapping up and looking at her with confusion riddled on her face.

“Tobin…” Christen smiled, shaking her head. “You do realize that I’ve had those exact thoughts about you almost on the daily for the past 6 years? Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep wishing I could play like you? Have the confidence that you do? Feel secure in a starting spot like you? I have always looked to you as an example of what I wanted to be on this team—not in terms of style but with confidence—even before we really started talking. I would get  _ so _ angry sometimes watching you, seeing you do things so effortlessly and just being so calm about being here as if not being on a roster hadn’t crossed your mind in years. And then I got to know you and I started understanding how you work, how you’re constantly perfecting your game in ways other people don’t even think of—how you’re not overconfident in your spot but you’re simply confident in who you are. And eventually I figured out that I didn’t need to emulate how well you played but how well you controlled your mindset—something that you’ve been helping me with for years. And how I’m playing right now? The goals I’m scoring and the games I’m starting—I wouldn’t have those without you and I am more confident in that fact than anything. If it weren’t for you I have no doubt that I’d still be throwing up before games and crying with relief every time I got a call-up. There isn’t one specific moral to this monologue but Tobin—I guess what I was trying to say is that you don’t have to feel bad for thinking what you did. It’s not like you’re walking around pissed at me for playing well—you were upset about how you played and I more than anyone know that feeling.”

Tobin opened her mouth to speak but Christen firmly planted a finger over her lips before any sounds came out. “One more thing. You. Need. To. Talk. To. Me! I love you. I love you more than anything but I need you to talk to me no matter what it is okay? I’m going to be your wife, Tobin. I need to be able to trust that you will come to me when something is wrong. I don’t care if you think it will upset me or even if you aren’t ready to have a full conversation—I just need to know what you’re thinking… I know I get really upset and I start getting mean when you won’t talk and that is fully on me. I’m not good at reigning that in sometimes but at the very least I just need to know what the issue is because you know I get worked up when I don’t know what’s going on because I feel so powerless and out of control and I hate that feeling so much—”

“Can I kiss you? Please—” Tobin rushed out, already leaning forward to Christen who framed Tobin’s face with her hands and pulled her the rest of the way in, crashing their lips together—both women feeling a sense of relief as the tension between them left as fast as it had come.

“You’re going to be my  _ wife. _ ” Tobin whispered against the younger woman’s lips, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“How did I know that was the only word you’d hear in that whole speech?” Christen asked, shaking her head.

“Why were we upset again?” Tobin teased, acting oblivious as she leaned in for another kiss that Christen stopped with her palm flat on Tobin’s face. 

“Nice try. Just because I can’t resist you doesn't mean we’re done here.” 

“Soooo you’re saying I can’t just keep kissing you to make you forgive and forget all of this?” 

“Ha! Nice try, you’re good baby, but you’re not  _ that _ good.” Christen smirked before standing up and reaching for Tobin’s hand. “I’m getting cold, we can finish this conversation in our room.

“That sounds promising.” Tobin mumbled, following behind Christen before catching up with her and sliding a hand down her back to squeeze her ass jokingly.

“Tobin Heath if you ever plan on seeing me naked again you better remove your hand from my ass immediately.” Christen deadpans and she’s fairly certain Tobin has never reacted so quickly to anything in her life. Her hand flies away as if it’d been burned.

“What happened to not being able to resist me?” Tobin grumbled, shoving her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt 

Before Tobin could respond, Christen had her pinned against the door to the rooftop entry—back pressed firmly against the metal and Christen’s front equally as skin tight against her body. 

“Just a little tip—“ the striker whispered in Tobin’s ear, moving down and biting softly at the skin below—“you talking about your feelings with me— _ really _ turns me on. So if you want to get some tonight I suggest starting there.”

“Is that why the makeup sex is always so great?” Tobin teases, reaching out to grip Christen’s hips, but she stopped when Christen’s hands latch onto her wrists. 

“No…” She whispers, smirking into the skin of Tobin’s neck before pulling back and looking at her through hooded lashes. “That is because I love to see you grovel.” The younger woman winks before dropping Tobin’s wrists and pulling the door behind her open, leaving a stunned Tobin behind.

  
  



End file.
